MilkShake
by Notorious George Weasley
Summary: [HoroRen OVERSOUL fic]As Ren gets more and more money from being in Oversoul, he keeps spending it on stuff he doesn’t need He’s so sick of his stuff not satisfying him that he needs something... particularly from the Horohoro
1. Chapter 1: Material Girl

Ok, yeah, an Oversoul fanfic. For those of you not "in the know" Oversoul is the Shaman King band for us fanatics. Ren is the singer; Faust plays bass, Horohoro on drums, and Yoh's on guitar. Horohoro is the seme in this one (a.k.a. he's on the top).

**Chapter 1: Material Girl**

_Up on a hill far away, but still close enough, to the big city and its stores and restaurants was a large mansion. This mansion was the crown jewel in the history of the most well-known band since the Beatles. This large T-shaped mansion was home to the rock band Oversoul, a band with six music awards, four platinum records, millions of fans all over the globe, and the sexiest members of pop culture in Japan._

Horohoro quit out of the webpage while he stifled a laugh. It was accurate enough, but it was still funny to think that Oversoul had been so successful in the two years of the band having a record deal. Now, the drummer thought, after a world-tour, it was only natural that he and his fellow members would settle down for some rest as they wrote another record; if you called settling down flaunting a seven-digit bank account.

The drummer with blue hair sat at his desk in front of a computer that cost more than a first-class ticket to Paris, surfing web pages of the fans in his wing of the mansion.Of the T-shape mansion, where the long end was facing east, he had the north wing, Yoh had the south wing, Faust had the basement, and Ren had the long east wing. Only, their wings were the upper floor (all except Faust); the ground level was everyone's, filled with a music studio with their instruments (and a piano) and songs in the works, a kitchen, an entertainment room, living and dining rooms, an inside pool, two bathrooms, a sauna, a gym, a Jacuzzi outside on the patio, and a party room with a fully-stocked bar. They had five maids, two gardeners, an on-call chef, two drivers, and a manager that only came over every so often. It was paradise, and, best of all, they could spend their money any way they wanted.

Yoh had donated to a few charities, but mostly spent his money on incense, "spiritual guidance" objects, weed, and other stuff of the sort. Faust was a bit different; since he had been pre-med when the band got big, he donated his money to AIDS funds, Cancer research, and Diabetes associations. All the rest of the money he saved, maybe going out a few nights a week to have a quiet meal alone at a nice restaurant. Horohoro was always concerned with the welfare of the planet, so he put a lot into environmental alliances that saved endangered species, conserved forests, and cleaned up wildlife preserves and oil spills. The rest he spent every now and again on a new shirt of some video games, but not a lot. Ren was a completely different story.

Since the band had moved into the mansion, Ren began buying stuff: jewelry, outfits, cars, coats, shoes, music, art; anything he could get his hands on. The only charity he had given to was for orphans and poverty over seas. People in the stores knew him as "Master Tao" and knew exactly how to treat him to get a bit of that cash. Of course, not much of this made a difference in the bank account, but he could buy so much in a day that his credit cards would begins to melt. What was he after anyways?

The front door opened and shut loudly, shocking Horohoro out of his contemplation, and he muttered, "Speak of the devil," as he walked out of his room and down the hall to the wrap-around staircase to look down at the front door. There stood the dark-haired, golden-eyed, tan-skinned, shot sex-god of the stage, Tao Ren. Beneath his mink-fur collar and furry sleeve-tips of his thousand dollar black coat, was his extremely feminine build and jutting hips. Horohoro scowled at the fur from the defenseless animals near to extinction, and the bags and boxes in Ren's arms. Yoh had emerged from the kitchen and called, "Win the battle, Ran-san?"

Grunting, Ren began climbing up the stairs to the second floor, a desperate look in his eye. As he stepped onto the landing, Horohoro growled out, "Maybe you'll be satisfied when you do something worthwhile with your money, and stop supporting sweat-shops."

Ren glared intensely at the drummer and continued walking to his room, answering, "What, like saving the precious little whales?"

A growl found its way into Horohoro's response. "Whales and endangered species are more important that Gucci and satin."

"Nothing is more important than my appearance to our fans, which I have to keep up," Ren called back, going further down his hallway. "They have come to expect the best from me."

"And what is that, a fashion whore?"

Before either one could say more, Ren had slammed his door closed so violently that Faust noticed the light fixtures shake over his desk while he looked through his library. A bit pleased with himself, Horohoro returned to his room and slumped onto his huge bed. What was Ren's problem, anyways? Had he gotten so conceited that all he wanted to do anymore was improve his image? Perhaps they should just throw him out of the band… but that was impossible. No one could replace Ren and his voice. He had become a part of Oversoul's image, as they all had. There wouldn't be an Oversoul without each of them.

Rolling over onto his stomach and resting his chin on the pillow, Horohoro stared at his wall. Ren had always been a primadonna – it was in his nature – but now he seemed frantic about it, like he was looking for everything he had never had before. Buying all those clothes and bags and shoes wasn't going to satisfy him though… The drummer knew that Ren wanted something, and wished he had it, because maybe then he wouldn't be such an asshole.

In his room, Ren was stuffing the last of his bags in his closet, his new clothes hanging up and new shoes neatly in their boxes on the tops shelf, which he could barely reach. Impatiently, the singer looked out the huge window facing his bed, watching the sunlight cast the house's shadow over the Japanese cherry trees below. He was not content, despite more than eight hours of shopping and nearly 3,000 dollars. Right now, Ren had the ability to buy a small country, but it didn't matter – that didn't make him feel pleased. This endless feeling of never having satisfaction with all of his possessions was snapping his last nerve. It felt even stronger when he was around Horohoro as well. All this stuff that he was buying should make him feel good, but is didn't.

So, grumpily, Ren walked off to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Tonight was the third anniversary of the band's first gig – in a nightclub called "Spider Grave" – so they were having a few people over: their manager (Mr. Takano), some roadies, some people from the record company, and Manta. Manta was Yoh's best friend, who used to be as short as a midget, but now towered over everyone but Faust since his growth spurt. He was in graduate school (but still only about 19), studying to be a big business man and soon to be the second-in-command in his father's company. Yoh spent a lot of time on the phone with him and being with him despite the touring, and he was so close to Manta that it made Ren wonder just how friendly they were. The guitarist had always been extremely happy and placid, even when he didn't have a dime to his name, and money didn't really make a difference to him; Yoh was just always cheerful. And now, Ren wondered if Manta added to that, and wondered what made them so happy together?

**Hope you liked! REVIEW! The next chapters are extremely awesome!**


	2. Chapter 2: How does it feel?

**I am so sorry for the delay! But here's the chapter and the others are written, I promise, just not here yet! I'll update soon! Without further ado, Chapter two! Thank you loyal reviewers!  
I don't own this crap. If I did, this would be SO CANON!**

**Chapter 2: How Does It Feel?**

By seven o'clock everyone was in the living room, eating appetizers from the buffet, and sipping champagne and wine from crystal glasses, talking with one another about a "new direction", which was absurd, Ren thought to himself. Oversoul's direction was perfect the way it was. Faust sat on a black leather couch, swirling red wine in his glass and speaking with two men in suits from the record company. Being good at talking business, the bassist was convincing the men that Oversoul's new album was to be their best, while still not giving them specifics. As this was all very chiqué, the roadies decided to sit in a corner with their beer cans, loudly making jokes with Horohoro, who kept giving Tao Ren cool glares. Ren walked away from the clutter of the room, out down the hall to look in the mirror to see if his hair was alright.

The singer passed a room with the door slightly ajar, only to hear Manta whisper, "It was torture being away from you, I couldn't concentrate on anything." Red stopped walking and looked back at the door. He crept back over to listen in. Just then, the guitarist within replied, "It hasn't been easy without you around either. What good is knowing your muse when you can never see him? But that's my fault, I should've called more."

Peeking through the crack between the door and the trim on the wall, Ren saw Yoh and Manta sitting on a low-backed love seat, their backs to the door. Manta's arm hung across the couch back, near Yoh's shoulders. They sat close together, closer than most friends would, but they both looked inexplicably happy. Content. Ren frowned. How did that work? He had more materially than both the two men put together and still wasn't satisfied.

"I got you something," Manta said gleefully, handing Yoh a small box. Ren strained to see. Yoh's face brightened up as he opened the box, repeating all the usual "Oh it's so beautiful" and "You shouldn't have" jazz. Everyone knew that was just common courtesy, but Ren was surprised when Yoh added, "I'm happy just being with you, Manta."

Ren's interest peeked. Just being together? Manta chuckled, "I know, Yoh, but I just want to get you stuff sometimes. I love you, you know." The two "friends" (which was now horridly disproved) began kissing and Ren, feeling rather awkward watching, leaned back, and wondered what he had missed so long.

Of course, Ren thought, it was love. That physical contact of love. "All you need is love" and so on, after all. Love could make him feel content, and he needed some contentedness before he took a power drill to his head. No wonder he had felt so horny and lonely for so long, he had needed love to soothe and fulfill him. But Ren didn't have time to look for his soul mate, so who would do? The roadies were rude and disgusting, Faust was too old, Mr. Takano was married, and Yoh was definitely "occupied"… That drummer… Even though it hurt to admit, Horohoro was cute, taller than Ren, sensitive, even if it was annoying to hear him bitch about the environment all the time, but he could be devilish and attractive, deep, passionate, and would be easy to seduce. Yes, why not Horohoro? He already made Ren's blood boil. Who better to know what a boy wants?

Ren nodded to himself. It was perfect. All he needed was for him and Horohoro to fall in lust (love is too time-consuming), and they would be set. Ren wouldn't feel so empty and needy and Horohoro wouldn't have to see Ren drag in more animal fur. The easiest part was that seducing was one of the first things Ren learned how to do when he came to Japan.

Manta and Yoh were getting progressively louder in their kissing, so Ren got up and rejoined the party in the living room, immediately grabbing a glass of wine. As the singer sat down on a couch, he began thinking, Of course, he was too proud to admit that he needed someone, so he had to be subtle, but obvious enough for Horohoro. Technically, his attitude should not change at all, but his mannerisms should. The gold eyes strayed from the deep red alcohol in his cup to the loudly laughing drummer.

Despite his good attributes, Horohoro was loud, impatient, reckless, and proud, along with wanting things _his_ way. His laugh was obnoxious and nasally, and he had almost no sexual urges Ren had known about. Past that, Horohoro stood with the roadies, his firm stomach peeking out from the gap between his pants and his t-shirt, making him look good enough to eat… which was all Ren was going for, and he looked back into his glass of wine, smirking.

At that moment, Horohoro looked over at the cool, calm, Chinese singer in the high-collar frogged satin shirt, large roomy pants, and sweater-robe with fur around the collar and sleeve cuffs. The pompous, sulky Tao Ren, with his icy intolerant gold stare and arrogant attitude, as if the world owed him something for being alive, was _everything_ Horohoro hater in humanity formed into one man. But something about Ren held the drummer momentarily captivated… and it made him feel uneasy.

The party ended and the help went about cleaning the dishes and rooms. Horohoro sat in his room on his bed to face the open door. Suddenly, as he flipped the page of his manga, a loud gurgle rumbled up from his gut. His stomach demanded food, despite the late hour illuminated on the digital clock nearby. Reluctantly, Horohoro got out of his comfortable position and made his way downstairs to raid the refrigerator.

Once he entered the kitchen, the spiky-haired drummer's mood sobered, and he saw the Chinese singer with one large spike in his hair sitting at the counter with a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream on the side. He was reading a paperback romance novel entitled Tales from Under Mr. Fuji. Soft porn, Horohoro thought to himself.

"What're you doing down in the kitchen? I thought you were going out," Horohoro said unemotionally as he walked over to the fridge. He opened the door to scan the shelves. Ren shrugged and muttered, "I was hungry," and turned the page. Despite his looking back over his shoulder to see that the singer was halfway through the book, he knew that there was nothing to eat in the fridge except a small plate of sushi and beer. Pulling both out, he kicked the door closed to conserve energy and sat down across from Ren, who was seemingly enthralled with the novel enough to not even look up.

He reached down into his bowl and drew out a plump red strawberry by its green top. Then, Ren dipped the pointed fruit down into the whipped sugary topping to give it a thick coating of white cream, and lifted the treat to his waiting lips. All this while, Horohoro couldn't help but stare, mouth slightly open as Ren's was now. The innocent act of eating strawberries and whipped cream was quickly becoming a lusty thought floating through Horohoro's mind, but Ren never batted an eyelash, and just kept reading, and ignored all else in the universe.

Ren's lips touched the very tip of the strawberry and Horohoro tensed. Ren's mouth glided up over the strawberry's surface, gathering white foam on his soft lips, and stopped his fingers held the stem of the fruit, and Horohoro could nearly feel through the strawberry the hot mouth that housed it. Agony and longing heated Horohoro's abdomen and legs, which quickly spread to his head. It was terrible as Ren began to suck. This wasn't a normal suck either. Ren let his whole mouth participate in the sucking, devouring, and ripping of the strawberry in a smooth liquid motion. The sucking could be heard. Suddenly, Ren pulled the stem back and placed it on a small pile on the counter, stripped bare of the fruit now slipping down the singer's rich throat. Last of all, the white cream on his lips was slowly and thoroughly licked off, and Ren turned a page.

The jaw of the drummer hung open as he watched Ren repeat the carnivorous and lusty feeding against to another poor, defenseless strawberry. The calloused palms which often held drumsticks began to moisten with sweat while he watched; feeling like a strange voyeur, aching to have Ren put a similarly tipped and white-covered object in his mouth. Why was the haughty ass-hole singer being so deathly arresting?

After the fourth berry had passed down Ren's throat, Ren looked up from his novel and dully asked, "Do you want one?" Horohoro gulped. What was Ren doing and why? The singer's soft fingers slid into the whipped cream, and he licked each millimeter of skin clean again. Completely gobsmacked sat Horohoro, stunned at the display of fruit smut, and quickly, the drummer's head nodded, not at all thinking about the fruit anymore, but only the warm, wet, now strawberry-flavored mouth.

Smiling, Ren stood from his seat, and moved slowly over to Horohoro. But he moved too slowly, because Horohoro began to remember Ren, Ren; the animal killing, red-meat eating, material-obsessed singer with an ego bigger than Kyoto. Without a second thought, Horohoro got up, grabbing his food with him, and walked off to his rooms, convinced that it was only another way for Ren to get what he wanted for a few minutes.

A growl poured from Ren's lips as he glared at where Horohoro has sat. With the back of his hand, he smacked the bowl of strawberries off the table, only to hear it come crashing down on the floor. Then the same hand hit the table in the form of an angry fist. _Why_ did Horohoro not understand that Ren practically needed to get laid?

Somehow it wasn't quite reaching Horohoro.

PLEAS READ AND REVIEW, THANKS! I'll update sooner than usual, I swear!


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